


and you won't let go of your hold on me

by agentsimmons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, DC Comics References, How Do I Tag, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Short Chapters, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: Tony Stark is a billionaire, engineer, playboy and the adoptive parent of Peter Parker. He also happens to be a vigilante known as Iron Man.Bruce Banner is a reporter for the Daily Bugle where he writes about science, philanthropy and on occasion the super-entity known as Hulk. While maintaining his secret that he actuallyisHulk.or in other words, a batman/superman inspired fusion starring ironman/hulk instead that nobody at all asked for but here we are anyways folks
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this story takes Marvel characters and puts them in roles inspired by DC characters, headlined by Tony as Bruce Wayne and Bruce as Clark Kent. 
> 
> I haven't the foggiest idea where this plot bunny came from. I think I might have once been reading some DC fics and wondered about the tropes in those fics and what they would be like with my precious science bros/boyfriends and it stuck with me. Wherever it came from, this is fic is special to me in a way. For the past 2 years, it is the only WIP I've been able to repeatedly go back to and find words for when in the midst of depression. When nothing else spoke to me, or when I needed to clear my mind, this little story was here for me. It might not be a stellar work, but now I'm ready to share it and hope that at least one or two others out there find some kind of enjoyment from it. 
> 
> Various DC characters will have hinted at counterparts in this story, even if nothing is actually done with them beyond a nod. For non-DC folks, I'll list the intended counterparts in the end notes.

Sometimes he thinks it would be nice if he had developed normal super powers. But only sometimes.

In a more practical form the super strength would be helpful, not that he's _completely_ helpless without it no matter what the current situation might suggest. Flying or super speed might be beneficial too.

He's not sure that he would want anything like the ability to hear thoughts, super hearing, x-ray vision or any other of the common super powers hypothesized in works of science fiction. Those all seem intrusive in their own ways no matter how useful and he's already had more than enough of intrusive power.

Telekinesis would probably be a good one, and probably helpful at the moment.

But, no. Bruce Banner turns into a green behemoth with limited IQ and easily-triggered rage. It's an entirely alternate ID that Bruce has little to no control over. It's not convenient, it certainly isn't pleasant, and he definitely has no intention of letting him out here amidst a room full of terrified hostages if he can help it. Whatever else he might be, the Other Guy is a force of _destruction_. It's always a risk.

Bruce glances to his right and meets Betty's gaze. Whatever else he might be, the Other Guy is also fiercely loyal. There's a growl in Bruce's head saying they must protect Betty at all costs, and the thing is Bruce completely agrees. He's not even sure if the growling is purely the Other Guy, but he doesn't like to contemplate where the two ends meet and it doesn't mean he has to give in.

"Her," one of their captors barks suddenly.

Bruce furrows his brow and before he can blink a man in black is looming over them and dragging Betty harshly up to her feet.

"She's General Ross' daughter."

Fear grips him, causing his heart to beat wildly. His vision starts to grow fuzzy at the edges, tinged with green.

_Anyone who hurts Nice Betty is Bad Man!_

Bruce closes his eyes tight and shakes his head. He can't do this. He _can't_ transform here.

But he has to do _something_. Betty is in danger. He can't hold the green beast back much longer. In that place where the two ends meet, he can admit he doesn't _want_ to. Not when he knows that the Other Guy will save Betty if no one else.

Thinking as quickly as he can, while he still can, Bruce comes up with a plan.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath and lunges at the man, calling forth the beast within just enough for him to get out of the room.

 _Just a little longer_ , he promises. _Just a little longer and you'll get a chance to save Nice Betty._

It's still a risk. If anyone were paying attention they would probably see the way his muscles start to bulge in order to give him the strength needed to knock the man to the floor. Or the way his skin starts to tinge green just beneath the white as he takes out the man at the door. Thankfully, everyone is too busy shouting in fear and confusion over the fracas his heroic act causes.

He puts as much distance as he can between himself and the room before giving in completely to the burning in his veins and the litany of _ANGRY! SMASH! PROTECT! PROTECT! SMASH!_ in his ears, transforming him into something inhuman.

His last thought before letting the beast take over is that Betty's father is right. Like this, he might as well be an alien creature that can't be trusted.


	2. Chapter 2

As Tony trudges toward the kitchen in search for the strongest coffee he has stocked in the mansion he's reminded of why he goes for so long without sleep in the first place. The feeling of death warmed over whenever he wakes up again is intolerable.

"Good morning, Mister Stark," he's immediately greeted by his butler, Jarvis upon entering the kitchen. "You know," the elderly Brit says, reading his mood with ease for as constant as he's been in Tony's life, "it wouldn't be so bad if you would sleep on a regular basis."

Of course, they've had this argument a thousand times so Tony merely grunts and ignores him in his quest for blacker than black coffee.

Jarvis coughs softly and adds, "I'm afraid young Parker has consumed the last of your favorite brew."

Tony stops abruptly. He blinks, wondering if he'd heard that correctly. "Why would Peter drink the rest of my coffee?" He turns and looks at the older man. "He knows I can't function without it."

"Yes, sir," Jarvis nods, "but it would seem neither can he when he needs to wake for school promptly at six a.m. after half a night patrolling."

"I got him back home as quickly as I could," Tony defends himself. "You know he never listens to me."

"Surprising," Jarvis says flatly. "He also mentioned having a very hard test today."

Tony sighs and contemplates grumbling some more, but he doesn't have the energy. "Fine. Order some more."

"Already done, sir."

"Right. Good. Thank you. Now order even more. From now on let's make sure we're never out. Maybe I should make a coffee cellar," he contemplates, scrunching his face.

"Yes, one more place for me to clean," Jarvis replies with a put-upon sigh.

He sets down two mugs on the table beside a plate with eggs and bacon. As usual, one of Tony's many Starkpads is there as well since Jarvis knows he can't go a full meal without some kind of distraction.

"Thank you, Jarvis," Tony says as he sits down.

Regardless of their repartee, Tony is genuinely grateful. He knows he should probably say more often how much he appreciates the man, but then again it's always been easier being a little prickly. Jarvis knows that he cares.

"Always a pleasure, sir," Jarvis replies.

Tony finishes the first cup of what just barely passes as coffee before digging into his eggs and opening up his newsreader. His eyes widen when the very first headline that pops up is of the big, green and angry variety.

"You again," he mutters.

He opens up the article and quickly reads the AP write-up. At the end is a link to the Daily Bugle where the article first appeared, where it almost always first appears, and he clicks on it.

Apparently Bugle reporters Bruce Banner and Betty Ross had found themselves caught up in a hostage situation at an early morning press conference and the Hulk had come smashing in to save the day. Literally.

"Of course he did," Tony comments, eating a piece of bacon.

"Ah, the Hulk news I presume, sir?" Jarvis asks as he refills the empty cup with fresh coffee and tops off the nearly empty second one.

"He seems to have a soft spot for the Daily Bugle," Tony replies in lieu of an answer as he watches the accompanying footage.

"Yes, and that Miss Ross especially," Jarvis comments. "Odd that the General wishes to annihilate a creature who seems to have his daughter's best interests in mind."

Tony raises an eyebrow at the other man, but then turns his attention back to the footage when an interview snippet with Banner starts.

_"Um, well, you know, I just sort of freaked out and thankfully the, uh, I guess the adrenaline was enough to charge a few of our captors."_ The reporter fumbles and fidgets like he'd rather be the one giving the interview than answering questions on camera.

Tony quirks his lips to one side in spite of himself.

_"I managed to get out of the room. I ran to get help and before I even cleared the building Hulk showed up."_ He shrugs and gives a nervous laugh. _"I guess that was help enough."_

The news footage changes to an interview snippet of Betty Ross and Tony sighs as it occurs to him that this means General Ross will be more insufferable than usual, demanding an update on the Hulkbuster project.

"Mister Stark," Jarvis interrupts his thoughts, somehow managing to have read them, "I often wonder why you align yourself with the General in the first place."

"And don't say civic duty," Jarvis adds at the same time Tony answers, "Civic duty."

Tony frowns and looks at Jarvis, meeting with an expectant expression. "Why shouldn't I say civic duty?" he argues. "I'll admit the Big Guy has proven he doesn't want to hurt anyone." He shifts his eyes back down to the tablet, where he's pulled up Bruce Banner's sparse bio page on the Bugle website. " _Intentionally_."

"But to be _hunted_ , sir?"

Tony winces and he shakes his head, trying to block out the part of him that sounds even remotely like a conscience. At least where this is concerned.

"Look, I don't like it necessarily, but I agree with Ross' overall concerns," he defends himself. "We don't know what this thing really is or where it even came from. As far as we can tell, it has no understanding of control. If it wanted to, it could destroy an entire city block without even blinking an eye and then keep going. Who knows what its upper limits are. Does it even have any? Why does it save anyone at all? What about the incident in Harlem? Why are we so quick to let this thing loose without knowing anything about it while we lock up delinquents out of fear for far less? Why—"

"Ah, I see," Jarvis interrupts and Tony furrows his brow, glancing back up to see a knowing look on his face. "Hulk has presented you with an equation to solve. That you care about the people he may potentially harm is merely fuel to the fire."

Before Tony can process Jarvis' accusation, let alone muster a retort, Jarvis is nearly out of the room with an added, "I do believe Miss Potts is here." Not even two seconds later, the doorbell rings.

"You look like you've just been put in your place," Pepper Potts, his personal assistant, says a few moments later when she joins him. He scowls at her and she mimics it before sitting down at the table. "Have you seen the news?" She looks up at Jarvis with a smile when he places a coffee cup in front of her along with some cream. "Thank you, Jarvis."

"Ross called?"

"He wants a conference call scheduled no later than three," she confirms, pouring cream into her coffee while Tony wrinkles his nose.

She might as well be drinking milk, he thinks before turning his attention back to the news on his tablet.

"Mm," Pepper hums as she swallows a drink of coffee, like she's just been reminded of something, "and as you can see he's also been spazzing to all the news outlets about the foiled plot against his daughter."

Tony nods, narrowing his eyes. "Even I think it's in poor taste to use your daughter's trauma to prop your agenda against the Hulk."

It's a reminder that while he and Ross might agree on the basics, the General borders on unhinged in a way that makes Tony distrust him. He's had his fair share of insane criminals to deal with over the years, some of them repeatedly, and General Ross possesses more than a few striking similarities.

"It is," Pepper agrees. "And because he mentioned Stark Industries' involvement in aiding his agenda," Tony's eyes widen and he looks up at her, "several media outlets are looking for interviews."

"Fuck," Tony grits out and downs half a cup of coffee in one go, suddenly craving something stronger. "That bastard. Do we have a press statement drawn up yet?"

She nods and taps on her phone. "Sending it now. Essentially, no comment at this time, but all projects in development are in good conscience. You'll speak with the press if and when you feel it is important to do so."

Tony sighs. "Let me guess. Betty Ross is on the list?"

Betty Ross is one of her father's most prominent dissenters. She's also one of the principal authorities in the press when it comes to the Hulk. The only other Bugle reporter ever given the task is Banner, who seems – as far as Tony can tell from the neutral tone of his articles – about as attached to the subject as he might be to fluff pieces about cats rescued from trees.

"She was the first to ask, actually. Probably before even being cleared from medical, knowing her." She then muses, "Family dinners must be fun for her."

"I don't think I can handle both members of the Ross clan so that will be a hard pass on any interview with her," he replies.

"How about an interview with Senator Stern?" Tony raises an eyebrow at the change of topic. "He'll be at the art gala Laufeyson is hosting tonight," she says with a smile.

Tony smiles too, seeing this as the chance it is to find some incriminating evidence against the shady senator he's been at odds with, both as Tony Stark and his alter ego.

"Jarvis," he says to his butler, "give my finest suit to Miss Potts so she can have it pressed and waiting at the penthouse," he says. "Looks like it's Tony Stark's turn tonight."

"Very good, sir," Jarvis replies. "I do hope this means you'll be coming home straight after and skipping patrol?"

"I guess that depends on how the night goes," Tony says, but they both know it's very unlikely. "I'll be taking my other suit with me just in case."

Jarvis sighs. "Of course, sir. At least I'll be able to count on young Parker getting a decent night's rest for once."


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce doesn't usually accept Nat's offers to be her plus one to anything, but when she drops an invitation to an art gala she's spent the past two weeks polishing her nails for – _and sharpening them too_ Bruce thinks – he tilts his head and says, "Huh. An art gala might actually be interesting."

Her cool-green eyes bat in surprise, but only for a second and she doesn't give him a chance to confirm his interest. Instead she tells him to go home, freshen up and, "change into that purple shirt that drives everyone wild while you're at it."

That's how he finds himself wandering aimlessly around the gala several hours later, regretting he'd opened his mouth. It's just his luck that Tony Stark isn't there in spite of his being on the guest list.

It doesn't help that he's been thoroughly abandoned by his escort to this party, his coworker transitioning like a ruthless chameleon from one crowd to another at a pace Bruce can't keep up with.

When no better course of action comes to mind, Bruce decides to take a break from watching Nat mingle in order to appreciate the art. He manages to do so without incident until he wanders around the bend of a curved acrylic wall and nearly runs into a young man examining a showcase of photos.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out his apology.

"No harm done," the man says. "I've been hogging this space, I'm afraid. You can tell me to move if you'd like."

Like most people at the gala, objectively speaking, he's quite attractive. He's tall with blond hair and clear, blue eyes. But his warm smile and impeccable manners make him stand out from the other attractive people Bruce has seen. There is something less bottled about it.

Bruce glances at the photos. They're a selection from World War II that have been masterfully restored and colored. He isn't particularly interested in the subject matter, but he looks a little longer lest the man get the wrong idea from the studious gaze of his appearance instead. There are quite a few of the old war-time hero known as Captain America.

"No, no." He shakes his head. "That's fine. I'm just meandering about. But, um, thank you," he says and then quickly moves past him.

"Ah, there you are." Nat appears out of nowhere and latches onto his arm as soon as he reaches the main floor again.

He blinks rapidly. Her stealth puts paparazzi to shame. It has to be part of the reason she's able to scoop the best in town on a regular basis.

"I was just admiring the art," he tells her. "A little more in my comfort zone."

"Sorry about that," she says, not the least bit apologetic in tone. "I had to work the room." There's an upward tilt to her lips on one side and, not for the first time, Bruce wonders just what she actually means when she says _work the room_. "But it started to get a little too crowded."

Bruce narrows his eyes and follows her cool gaze.

"Oh."

While Bruce had been preoccupied, apparently he'd missed Tony Stark's entrance. The man is already surrounded by a throng of socialites and has a woman draped on each shoulder. He says something, cracks a blinding smile, and everyone around him laughs uproariously

Bruce swallows hard and second guesses his foolhardy plan. A man like Tony Stark will eat a reporter like him alive.

"Sad, isn't it?" Nat breaks him from his intense study of the scene across the room and the man at the center of it. He looks at her to see her giving the barest shake of her head. "Those women are making spectacles of themselves for no reason other than Stark's ego."

He furrows his brow for a second before understanding her. He looks back at the Genius Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist – trademarked – whom gossip reporter Natalie Rushman insists is further on the other side of the Kinsey scale than he'd like for the general public to know.

Stark is in the middle of saying something else to his adoring audience, all smiles as he does, when his eyes casually flicker in Bruce's direction. Their eyes lock with an intensity that takes Bruce's breath away. Stark pauses in his delivery of whatever anecdote he's giving, eyes remaining fixed on him. After what feels like an eternity Stark's eyes flicker over to Nat, turning just a little bit sharp when they do, and then back to his audience. He continues his prior conversation as if he hadn't been derailed in the slightest.

"Looks like you'll be getting that interview after all," Nat says in a musing tone.

Bruce furrows his brow and looks at her. "What do you… I mean, how…"

Before he can manage a coherent question, she snorts and says, "You've turned down every single invitation I've ever dangled in front of you, but I'm supposed to believe you've taken a sudden interest in art the same day Stark denies Betty an interview about his work involving our favorite green hero?"

Bruce chuckles guiltily. "You're either scary good or more cynical than me."

"Both," she answers without hesitation. "But I wasn't even trying with that one. Even the resident ditz," she jerks her head in Stark's direction, "could have figured it out."

Bruce frowns at her remark.

Tony Stark is known for his flippant social life, but the man didn't get two degrees from MIT just based on his name and charisma alone despite what some people might think to the contrary. He may not always act like it, but the man is brilliant.

The man is also headed in their direction, Bruce realizes with sudden dread.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony had expected the Daily Bugle's celebrity reporter to be there; there was a reason she was considered one of the best. He'd even been counting on Betty Ross to crash the after his refusal to give her an interview.

By no means had he counted on their resident expert in science showing up to the art gala. It bears investigation.

He makes his way across the room to meet Bruce Banner formally at long last, sizing him up with each step. This close he looks every bit the unassuming character he seems in print and at the occasional press events he's been in attendance. He's a tad rumpled, like a man not originally from a big city – which Tony knows that he's not – and appears to be shrinking back as Tony approaches, unlike the confident and affected Ms. Rushman beside him who seems to be sizing Tony up in turn.

But, damn, if there isn't something absolutely delectable about him too. Maybe it's the down-to-earth manner in this sea of shallow and corrupt, or the way he stands his ground even though he clearly wants to bolt. Or maybe it's the dark hair or the glasses or…

Oh, definitely the purple shirt. It's probably a combination of everything, but the closer he gets, the more that purple shirt sends the Bruce Banner package over the edge and threatens to take Tony along with it. It might just be a good night to be the notorious Tony Stark after all.

"A pleasure to see you as always, Natalie," Tony greets the redhead first. "Have you singled out tomorrow's headline yet?"

"There are a few contenders," she answers, smirking just enough to tell him he's one of them. "Some," she glances around the room, "more interesting than others."

She furrows her brow at something and Tony follows her gaze to see some young, blond man who looks like neither socialite nor businessman. Tony's certainly never seen him before. Maybe somebody's plus one? He glances back at her with a wry smile.

"So, Natalie Rushman has a type after all?" He lifts one eyebrow.

She glances back sharply, her guard dropping just enough that her discomfort in being found out doesn't escape his shrewd notice.

"He seems like a pretty nice guy," Banner interjects, his tone conversational, and they both look at him.

Well, Tony also does a quick look back over his shoulder at the other man before looking at Banner again.

Banner meets his gaze. "And, you, Mr. Stark?" he asks. "Are _you_ a nice guy?"

Tony blinks, genuinely caught off guard. Fight must have overridden flight because Banner is suddenly all hard-nose and pinning-gaze, every inch a skilled reporter. And Tony is his target.

"Since when is Ms. Ross in the habit of sending her boyfriends to do her job for her?" Tony narrows his gaze on him.

"Ms. Ross is not aware that her colleague is here," he answers and Tony checks a smug grin. Banner fell into his trap and answered both of his questions. "I'm here with questions of my own. I'd like an interview and figured I'd force you to say no to my face."

"It's a nice face," Tony replies. "I can see why you'd use it as an asset." Banner's eyes widen and he glances away, a touch of color on his neck. "I'm powerless, really. You can have an interview."

"Yes?" Banner looks back in disbelief before schooling it. He clears his throat. "I mean, thank you, Mr. Stark. He pulls out a small notepad from his person, flips it open, and says, "If I can just get the when and where, I—"

"When, right now," Tony cuts over him. "The where…" He casts his eyes about the space. "Hmm, the dance floor is relatively uncrowded."

"I don't understand." Banner glances toward the dance floor and then at Rushman like he's begging for backup.

"You asked for an interview and for me to give you the when and where. I agreed and gave you the when and where," Tony replies in clipped tones then laughs, exaggerating the sound. "And people seem to think I'm the one lacking common sense."

"You are," Rushman chooses that precise moment to chime in.

"Hey, now." Tony pouts in a mock expression of wounded pride. "I'd say you're being a little mean. Seeing as I've practically gift wrapped your next riveting piece on Tony Stark's questionable heterosexuality."

She tilts her head and looks ready to give some appropriately scathing retort, but she doesn't get the chance before Banner says, "I can't dance with you, Mr. Stark."

Tony shrugs, faking perfect nonchalance. "Well, I'm sorry we couldn't work something out. When I'm ready to make a statement to the press, I'll keep you in mind." He holds out a hand. "Pleasure meeting you," Tony pauses as the reporter returns the hand shake and then adds, in a purposeful tone, "Dr. Banner."

Banner's eyes go wide and his hand falls.

"Doctor?" Rushman echoes in surprise, furrowing her brow.

Banner glances at her and then back at him. "After you, Mr. Stark," he gestures with an open hand and Tony tries not to smile too wolfishly as he leads him to the dance floor.

Banner pulls out a recorder, turns it on, and then pockets again. He lets Tony take the lead and glances around them like this is only marginally better than having been outed as something a little more intelligent than a simple, small-town boy transplanted to the big city with dreams of a Pulitzer. Usually Tony would be okay with that since the ends justify the means, but suddenly he isn't so sure.

"You've researched me," Bruce finally says, eyes still lingering everywhere but on him.

As for Tony he can't seem to take his eyes off the reporter now that he's got him this close.

"I could flatter you," Tony replies, "but I make it a habit of knowing at least a little bit about any pertinent reporters."

Tony doesn't usually opt for honesty when he's playing the casual billionaire, but he has to be careful with this one not to overplay his hand. He thinks Banner is probably more aware of the genius in his trademark than the general public who would probably just as easily believe he puts his name on stuff and takes the credit.

The doctorate-holding reporter finally meets his gaze with a questioning look. "Pertinent?"

"You're the only one at Daily Bugle who writes about projects coming out of Stark Industries. That makes you pertinent," Tony explains. 

"Ah."

"But I will say I maybe did a little more research on you than some others," he adds.

"Did you?"

"It's not really uncommon," Tony says in non-answer. "Special interest journalists usually have accompanying degrees. Finance experts write on finance in finance magazines. Education majors write on education. You get the point."

"I'm starting to," Banner remarks, suspicion in his tone.

"Right. But even so it's not every day that an unassuming reporter with a bit of knowledge delegated to the science and business bylines of general newsstand is able to do more than understand it enough to quote the AP in a way that simpleminded readers will understand." Tony pauses. He lowers his voice an octave and continues, "And you, Dr. Banner, not only understand the AP, you write articles the AP uses."

Banner studies him for a long moment before sagging his shoulders a touch. He snorts. "Nobody's ever thought one way or another about it. I figured I was dumbing it down enough that it wasn't obvious."

"On occasion your attempts have been painfully obvious," Tony tells him and the other man studies him again, harder this time. "I'm not sure why you're hiding your brilliance at a shabby press machine like the Bugle."

"I have my reasons."

"Perhaps, but the more I paid attention the more I realized you _are_ hiding."

Banner's expression turns rueful and he looks away.

It's such a sad sight that Tony suddenly feels like he should apologize, which isn't something he usually does. "Do you need to be concerned about Nat knowing? I know she has a habit of making things difficult for certain people. I can fix this if you need me to," he offers.

Banner's face hardens as he looks back at him. "I'm not worried about her, no. She'll give me a hard time for keeping it a secret, but ultimately it'll be fine."

"Are you two—"

"I'm the one that's supposed to be giving the interview here," he interjects before Tony can finish. "And seeing as you potentially just ruined my life," there's dry humor in his tone, but Tony knows that he'd better not push the man's patience by responding to it, "I'm determined to give it."

Tony can't resist, since not all of his smarm is an act, and says, "Well, I assure you I'm quite accustomed to giving and taking." He pauses a beat and shamelessly lets his eyes rake over the reporter's face, down the column of his neck to the spot where his top button is unfastened, lingering there for just as long as he can trust himself before raking them back up in time to see the flash of, well, _something_ in the other man's eyes. "Interviews, of course."

The unreadable expression in Banner's eyes turns into something dangerously calculating and Tony isn't sure if that makes him more or less attractive.

"Business before pleasure as always, then?"

The non-sequitur takes Tony off guard – _and that's twice now_ says a voice that any other person would probably place as concern, and that sounds like a strange cross between Jarvis and Pepper.

When he doesn't answer, Banner follows the accusation through with deadly precision. "I'm not sure why you're hiding _your_ brilliance by soaking your liver in alcohol and sleeping your way through Manhattan and beyond, but there must be a reason Genius and Billionaire come first in the title. And now that business involves hush-hush work on unknown items, contracted out by a man with an open disdain for the O—" He fumbles and Tony narrows his eyes. "For the Hulk?"

"I've read your articles on the Jolly Green Giant," Tony says, "and I don't recall them being anywhere near this passionate. This kind of interview is Ms. Ross' area. Or has the Hulk grown on you too?"

"Not in the least," he says, a strange conviction in his voice that Tony logs away for analysis later. "And that wasn't an answer."

"Or maybe as long as the Hulk has a mind to protect Ms. Ross, you're willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. A nice, big, green bodyguard for the woman you love. Is that it?" Tony can't help trying to solve the puzzle. He gets no answer, not even a change in expression, to satisfy him, Banner not rising to the bait. "Look," he tries to contain his frustration, "I've already told the press that any projects in development—"

"—are in good conscience," Banner parrots. "You know, call me a skeptic or a cynic, but it's the last part of that bottled answer I'm having a hard time reconciling with what I know of General Ross."

"Ah, so that's why you're the one here and not Ross' daughter." Tony smiles, gears spinning in his head. "That's where the passion stems from." Banner blinks and Tony is glad to have the upper hand again.

Banner studies him with intense focus as Tony leans in. He presses one side of his head to Banner's temple, his mouth close to his ear, and says, "I've read every article you've ever written, Doctor and know you're more than just a genius."

He hears the reporter's breath catch just enough to be noticeable, feels his body tremble with it. And suddenly Tony realizes he's not just putting on his usual act anymore. Somewhere along the way he must have decided he genuinely _wants_ the man he's dancing with, no matter how bad that idea would be.

"I…am?"

"Don't be so modest. I know all about the humanitarian who wants to remind people of the science in conscience." Taut muscles are released and Banner practically melts into him, almost radiating relief. Tony pulls back and meets Banner's brown, just a touch wary, gaze. "And I must say, the Philanthropist in me finds it very attractive."

Tony sees the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, a swallow, tracks the motion hungrily as it cries out to be ravished. When he looks back up, he finds half-lidded eyes that draw him in and he seeks out the reporter's lips instead, ignoring the thought that says it's still a bad idea.

"The interview," Bruce – _and is it Bruce now?_ – protests weakly.

"We have all night," Tony promises.

"True," Bruce gives his consent, closing his eyes, and their lips brush in a tentative fashion.

A small part of Tony's brain, the part that knows this is a bad idea, screams that he's giving Nat – and everyone – more of a confirmation than he'd actually planned on. But, frankly, he doesn't care.

He ignores it by pushing a little more into the kiss, hoping for more but not demanding more than the reserved man might want to give. He's fairly certain Bruce didn't show up with plans of being one of Tony Stark's many seduced…

And that thought makes something small and unpleasant coil in Tony's stomach, something that breaks through some of the hazy spell that's come over him.

"I'm afraid you actually do _not_ have all night, sir," Jarvis' urbane voice comes over his communicator, breaking through the rest of it.

Tony pulls back from the kiss and tries to measure Bruce's reaction, hoping for some sign that he'd genuinely wanted it. He hopes Bruce attempting to chase after the lost connection, eyes closed and expression a touch wanton is it.

"It would seem Mister Parker has snuck out to go on patrol without you," Jarvis explains the point of his interruption.

_Peter can handle it_ , Tony thinks, the selfish part of him overriding any immediate paternal concern.

When Bruce opens his eyes, Tony studies him for half a second before taking a chance. He moves in to kiss him again and the other man makes no protest, rather moves towards him in tandem.

Their lips just a breath away when Jarvis adds, "And Captain Stacy just sent out the alert that Doctor Octavius has escaped The Raft again." 

Tony pulls back sharply. "Shit," he growls.

"Excuse me?" Bruce blinks at him, looking all the world like he's reeling from the sudden change.

"Not you, definitely not you," Tony assures him. He steps back and runs a hand through his hair, falling back into some kind of character that can get him through this debacle without ruining everything promising that they'd been on the verge of. "I just, my son is going to kill me. I just remembered—" He cuts himself off with a convenient groan, faking as though he's internally berating himself.

"Peter, right?" Bruce studies him.

Tony nods. "Yes. Look, I'm sorry. I really have to go. This is important and—" He shakes his head, as if berating himself again. "I know this looks bad, but I promise you, you'll still get your interview. You'll hear from me by tomorrow. If for any reason you don't, come raze Stark Tower to the ground."

Bruce blinks a few more times, looking a bit owlish behind his glasses. "Um, right. I… understand. Your son comes first."

"Thank you," Tony says and wastes no more time with his exit.

Well, actually he stops short when he hears, not even ten seconds after he's walked away, an ostentatious, "Bruce Banner, what a surprise to see you here." It's followed by a trademark chuckle Tony would know anywhere. "I'm afraid I also saw Stark's little kiss and run. Quite infamous, that one."

Tony spares a few seconds to turn and look. He sees Bruce has been assailed by none other than the gala's host himself, Loki Laufeyson. Tony narrows his eyes and bites back a growl. He has half a mind to march back over and tell Laufeyson to keep his predatory hands off of his stuff, but then he realizes he's being ridiculous.

He turns back again to leave because duty calls. At the end of the day, or night, it would have only been a passing fling anyway. The Iron Man's heart of steel can't allow for anything more.


	5. Chapter 5

When Iron Man flies onto the scene at the pier, it's already been mostly evacuated and he knows that the police are busy working to evacuate the neighboring area and set up a blockade. Unfortunately, Doc Ock already has hostages. A couple of kids are held tight in two of his metallic tentacles while the other tentacles hurl an arsenal of assorted items, like boxes and trash receptacles, at a dodging Spider-man.

"Missed me again, noodle arms," Spider-man goads. "You throw worse than my grandpa."

"For the last time," Tony says into their commlink as he hovers above the scene, "Jarvis is not your grandfather."

"Says you," Peter reacts at the same time Jarvis chimes in with a curt, "I am truly flattered."

Tony sighs and fires a repulsor at the last of three objects thrown in a rapid succession before any can hit Peter. "Whatever, just don't get cocky."

Peter huffs a laugh into his communicator. "This from the man who invented cocky."

"I didn't invent it," Tony says. He swoops in with several decoy repulsor blasts and Peter maneuvers in, using the distraction to do as much damage as he can to Ock's tentacles with his web shooters. "I just perfected it."

At that moment one of the children, a young girl, screams when Ock lets her fall toward the pier far below him. Tony gives up his attack and surges after her, scooping her up into his arms and back up into the air. He flies her far away from the ongoing battle before setting her down.

"My brother!" she cries.

"I'll save him too," Tony says. He glances past her and sees officers running over to intercept her further to safety. "I promise." He shoots up in the air and arcs back toward the pier.

"Uh, a little help, Iron Man," Peter says and Tony uses the HUD to zero in on the scene.

The girl's brother is suspended safely in a web Peter's created for him between two posts of the pier. Peter on the other hand is on the defense, leading Ock further and further away from the scene as the villain gives a mad pursuit. Since there aren't any buildings nearby it's better for Peter to try and lead Doc Ock toward the city. On the one hand that puts more civilians in danger and on the other hand it currently puts Peter at a slight disadvantage that Tony doesn't like.

Tony quickly flies over to the webbing and frees the boy. He carefully sets him on the ground and points. "Your little sister is at the end of the pier with the police. Think you can make it there on your own, champ?" He doesn't want to leave the boy helpless, but with Doc Ock chasing Peter in the opposite direction, his priority is on helping him instead.

"You bet, Iron Man! Go kick his ass," the boy cheers and then takes off running to safety.

Tony chuckles and says, "You've got it."

Iron Man turns and flies after Doc Ock and Spider-man, kicking his thrusters up a notch. The man inside the suit also makes a note to ground Peter from patrol for a couple of years at least.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce practically falls asleep standing the moment the spray of warm, relaxing water hits him. He's had a long day.

Transforming into the Hulk always takes a toll on him. Any bruises, burns, cuts or other non-life-threatening injuries he may have procured during his time as ordinary – _puny_ – Bruce Banner may disappear when he returns to his own skin, his body's self-repair kicking into overdrive when he's the Other Guy, but he might as well be in a gutter somewhere following a mugging as thinly stretched as he feels after the fact.

And then there's the other issue.

Some of his senses have been heightened since he became what he is now, hearing and smell and touch, but it's even more intense after time spent as Hulk. It's like he can hear and smell everything and his skin is so sensitive that everything he touches, that touches him, is branded there like a tattoo for hours upon hours until he returns to, well, as normal as he is anymore.

That's probably why he's in the shower instead of his bed. He's desperately trying to wash away all of the sensations still on his skin, trying to focus on individual droplets of water hitting him and sluicing down his body.

He wants to forget Betty's tight, relieved hug when she'd found him alive after everything had blown over. She'd been so afraid that she had been saved by Hulk but that her best friend hadn't been as lucky since he hadn't been anywhere to be found in the immediate aftermath.

He always feels guilty for putting her through that. He almost wishes he could find the nerve to tell her the truth, wishes he wasn't afraid of how it would change something between them, wishes he could trust her not to take it as an invitation to go out of her way to put herself in danger as if he – Hulk – needs her protection.

He also wants to forget Nat on his arm, holding on to him tightly – almost protectively – after rescuing him from Loki.

He especially wants to forget Loki's spindly fingers on his back and along his arm.

He even wants to forget Nat giving him a sympathetic pat on his arm before he left the party, telling him she'd compromise her journalistic integrity and not incriminate him in any articles about Stark.

_Stark_.

Bruce scrubs harder at his skin with the loofah and chases the feeling. Chases it, but can't forget.

He can't forget the memory of the billionaire's handshake.

He can't forget the feeling of that hand holding his, and the other on the small of his back.

He can't forget a temple resting against his and a mouth brushing his ear.

Bruce scrubs and scrubs, but he can't forget.

He gives up and tilts his head back in frustration, letting the water sluice down his face towards the part of him that remembers the most. Tony Stark had kissed him and he can't forget.

Like an infatuated idiot or a charmed snake, he turns off the shower, rests his head against the cheap tile, and admits defeat. He can't forget.

But the real problem is that he doesn't want to.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm absolutely done arguing about this," Tony says as he steps onto the armor pad in his underground workshop.

For a blissful few seconds Peter's petulance is silenced as the helmet is removed, followed by one piece of the suit after another. Then the elevator opens with a ping and it's followed by, "You literally just upgraded my web shooters two weeks ago!"

Tony sighs and opens his eyes. Peter is coming down further into the workshop, still in his uniform only sans mask so Tony can see, not just hear, his fifteen-year-old angsting. The boy stops several feet away from him.

"Why would you upgrade my shooters if you were just going to turn around and tell me I'm not allowed to be your sidekick anymore?" Peter complains, giving him a disbelieving look.

"Look, I only ever _agreed_ to let you tag along as a sidekick because you were an impetuous little boy with superpowers that was determined to get into trouble on your own if I didn't." He shakes his head, a fond memory entering it in spite of their argument. "But, Peter, you're not ten anymore. You should know better than to sneak off on patrol without my permission."

"You mean without your overprotection," Peter counters sharply and Tony groans in frustration. "Like you said, I'm not ten anymore."

"How about we continue this fight upstairs," Jarvis interjects. "I've prepared some chamomile tea with milk and crackers."

"Was I ever this bad?" Tony asks the older man, taking the small towel he's proffered to dry his sweat.

"Indubitably," Jarvis says. "Worse, even."

Inevitably the fight does start up again once Tony and Peter are in the living room enjoying the treat that Jarvis has prepared for them – as much as Tony can enjoy the completely wholesome offerings.

"I just don't see what the sudden problem is," Peter, of course, is the one to initiate the topic once more.

Tony holds in a sigh and says, "There isn't anything sudden about it." He knows it's not an answer, but it's still the truth.

He continues working through the data he'd managed to mine from Senator Stern's phone at the gala and waits for the further protest that's sure to come.

When it does, Tony stiffens because it's the last thing he'd expected.

"You trained me for this!" Peter exclaims. "I can protect myself, just like I can save lives. I saved that boy," he points out.

Tony glares at the teen. "No, I did _not_ train you for this. I trained you so you wouldn't lose yourself for as many years as I did. This was never supposed to be permanent. You're not supposed to become me."

Peter throws up his arms. "And what's so wrong with being you?"

Tony closes his eyes and rubs at his forehead. "Not tonight, Peter. Please," he begs. "I'm actually very tired for once and I still need to sift through this data and you've got school in the morning."

"Are you going to change your mind when we talk about it tomorrow?" Peter presses.

Tony grits out, temper waning, "I don't know. But if you keep pushing we won't even discuss it tomorrow."

"What's your problem tonight?" Peter stands up and folds his arms across his chest. "You're wound up more than usual."

"My problem is my adopted son disobeyed orders, put himself in danger, and is continuing to throw a hissy fit because he's in trouble for it. Did I leave anything out?"

_You left out dark hair, dark eyes, glasses, slightly chapped lips, and a strangely intoxicating purple shir_ t, an unhelpful voice in his head supplies. It's true that he hasn't entirely been able to forget the reporter and that is very much a problem too.

"Oh, like you can talk," Peter spits back and exits the room, leaving behind a cloud of angst thick enough to choke on.

"He'll be more reasonable in a few days, I'm sure," Jarvis offers in the ensuing silence. He begins clearing up the dishes Peter left even though the man knows he doesn't need to, especially when he should be in bed. "You know how unpredictable teenage mood swings can be."

_Especially when he doesn't have a stable home life_ , Tony fills in the blanks. He sighs and drops his head back against the sofa.

"You, on the other hand," Jarvis adds after another quiet moment, "might be a little more reasonable after a cold shower I think."

Tony snaps his head up and looks at Jarvis with wide eyes. The elderly butler merely smiles and leaves the room with the dishes.

Tony looks back at his computer, dazed for a long minute. Then he opens up the program that's been scanning for Bruce Banner's phone number and finds that it's finished. He opens up his virtual phone, an app he'd designed specifically to work with his personal phone alone, and types in the number. He then types out a text indicating where and when they can meet again and sends it.

After a long moment of staring at the sent message Tony checks the progress bar on an algorithm parsing Stern's data and decides a cold shower is probably a good idea.


	8. Chapter 8

As bone-weary as he is, Bruce still sleeps in fits and ends up giving up as soon as the first light of dawn peaks through his cheap blinds. He doesn’t mind too much. It's his favorite time of day, the golden light bursting forth and driving back the dark.

It's not that he's afraid of the dark anymore, not like when he was a kid hiding in a dark room, but he can't say that he loves it either. He even stretched his budget just a tad for this apartment over another in the building, because this one faces east and has a very small terrace.

It's to the small terrace that Bruce retreats after getting out of bed and preparing himself a cup of tea. He settles down on to his well-worn yoga mat and breathes in the city sounds and smells. His senses have finally settled back down to something tolerable, probably because of the few hours of unconsciousness he'd managed, and he breathes out in relief. He closes his eyes and focuses on the rhythm of his heartbeat.

It's far too fast now, even when he first wakes, always looming on the edge as if daring adrenaline to come make them wild. But if he focuses, he's learned how to keep it on the low end of his normal. He can steady it, force it to behave. He can become one with it and go deep into his head where the mind of the Other Guy is trapped just behind his own. That space where the two ends meet and sometimes push back and forth in battle for control over the vessel they're forced to share.

Bruce doesn't know if he was born with two minds, one waiting for the proverbial lightning to give it life, or if his mind was split into two in the accident that gave birth to the Hulk, but they're both there and if he goes deep enough into himself he can find both. Sometimes he toys with the thought of how easily he could just stay there, let himself—

There's a sudden vibration that interrupts that thought. It's soft at first, but gets stronger the further it tugs him back into consciousness.

He opens his eyes. The sun is brighter and higher now than it had been when he closed them nearly forty minutes earlier. He realizes the vibration must have come from his phone and so pulls it from his pocket. Unlocking the screen he sees the notifications he'd missed while his phone had been on 'do not disturb' and his eyes widen at one in particular.

_Interview redo: Let's have lunch. My treat. There's a shawarma joint I've been meaning to try. I'll pick you up at the DB 12:30 tomorrow unless that doesn't work for you. Sorry again for the kiss and run._

Bruce stares at it for a long time, like if he looks away or tries to open it, it'll vanish.

He doesn't know what it says about him that he'd expected he'd have to gather his courage again and go to Stark Tower to ask for the interview a second time; and, honestly, he isn't sure that he would have managed it.

More reasonably, and if he'd given Stark the benefit of the doubt, a message from his assistant later in the morning would have made sense. But Tony Stark himself had managed to get hold of his number somehow and had texted him at a bizarre hour.

Bruce doesn't know what that means or how to he should react.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce taps his pencil against his desk several times, glances at the clock, taps it a few more times, then scratches out another potential question for the interview.

He takes a deep breath and considers for a long moment whether or not he should before pressing play on the recording from the night before. He's been listening to one particular portion on loop.

_…the humanitarian who wants to remind people of the science in conscience. And I must say, the Philanthropist in me finds it very attractive._

No matter how many times he listens to it, it affects him, but the more times he listens to it, the more he also gets the nagging suspicion that there's already an answer there.

"Bruce, you look absolutely obscene."

Bruce snaps opens his eyes and yanks the earbuds out of his ears. He looks up to see Betty and Nat sharing conspiratorial grins. They're back from their daily overpriced coffee and pastry run and Betty sets down a tea and pastry for him as well. He narrows his eyes at the unsolicited items before turning them on the two women.

Reading his suspicion, Betty says, "Our treat."

"It was that or ice cream and romantic comedies at Betty's apartment. I intervened. You're welcome," Nat says in monotone.

Pursing his lips, he says, "Um, thanks? I mean, you might have both misgauged the way I cope with heartbreak," he hedges, not that he'll ever complain about a sweet treat. "Also, there's no heartbreak to cope with?" He lifts one eyebrow and darts his eyes back and forth between them.

Betty moves to sit at her desk, the one right beside his, and Nat moves to lean against the edge of it, both facing him.

He sighs. "I mean it. I'm not heartbroken over anything. In fact, for the sake of journalistic integrity, it's best nothing happened."

"You kissed him," Betty counters. Bruce winces. "That's not _nothing_."

"And you single handedly compromised him," Nat adds. "Unless he was planning this and you were as good a person to use as any—"

"Not outside the realm of plausibility," Bruce interjects, even as something cold and heavy settles into his stomach.

"Doubtful. Which means you somehow got to him enough that he didn't just wait to drag you off to some dark corner or hotel room. He confirmed to the whole world he's _at least_ bisexual to some extent. That's definitely not _nothing_."

Bruce's mouth falls open. "I—"

He doesn't know how to proceed. His mind reels and a phantom touch of lips makes him quickly reach for his tea, not caring if it's still scalding hot. He takes a drink and looks down at the recyclable cup in his hands.

"He didn't ditch me," he starts over. He glances at them long enough to see them share a confused look. He sighs again. "He had a thing he forgot about with his adopted son," he divulges. "You know, the Parker kid he took in."

The story had been all over the news five years prior, as unexpected as it had been.

"He apologized and sent me a text later to reschedule," Bruce admits. "We're… We're having lunch."

He finally meets their gazes again and isn't shocked to see them wide with disbelief.

"Oh my god!" Betty is the first to react. "Bruce, that's incredible!"

"So, you're not heartbroken," Nat says.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he replies.

"Then I want the pastry." She reaches for it and he quickly pulls it back.

"Hey! No takebacks," he says, the prime example of maturity, and laughs. She reaches for it again and he holds it out of reach. "So, what? I only get pastries if I'm heartbroken?"

"Yes," she says flatly and reaches for it again.

Bruce stands up to hold it away, maybe a tad wild-eyed like a dog threatened with having its bone snatched.

Betty giggles. "Oh, that face. Let him have it, Nat. He'll probably need all the sugar he can get to keep up with Tony."

Bruce frowns at her, the traitor.

Nat's mouth turns into a scary smirk and she stops trying to take the pastry away from him. "Fair point," she says.

She opens her mouth to deliver another strike, no doubt more deadly than the first, but he's saved by Jameson shouting from his office, "I hear laughter so when I open my inbox there had better be a slew of finished articles waiting. And where the hell are all my photographers?!"

There's a pause, his assistant no doubt filling his silence with the answer to that question. Both of their photographers are out sick.

"We only have two photographers? What kind of publication are we running here? And what happened to journalists shooting their own damn photos?"

Bruce looks at Betty and Nat for a long beat before they break into snickers.


	10. Chapter 10

Pepper wastes no time in needling Tony when she comes into the house and finds him putting the finishing touches on his da— interview attire.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my boss?" she demands.

He spins around to look at her while he works on his tie. He keeps taking it off and putting it on again, indecisive of if he should wear it. 

"Good morning to you too," he says.

"Yes," she hedges, " _morning_."

He rolls his eyes, starts to undo his tie, but then forces himself to keep it on.

"So either you've given up sleep altogether," Pepper continues, eyeing him warily.

"I shudder to think," Jarvis mutters under his breath and Tony throws a playful glare in his direction.

It probably had been a near thing though. He'd had enough restless energy the cold shower hadn't been able to solve. If he hadn't genuinely been tired, he probably wouldn't have given his bed a thought. 

"Or else you've been body snatched and the alien now using your body as a host has given itself away by remembering Tony Stark's eleven o'clock meeting."

Tony pulls off his tie as he mutters, "Damn it."

"And you forgot," she realizes.

Tony looks down at the tie, contemplating it and the situation. "How important was this meeting?"

"Sir, I insist you wear the tie," Jarvis states before Pepper can answer. "He or his photographer may wish to take pictures and given current rumors, for his sake and yours, you should look as professional as possible."

Tony concedes to the advice with a small nod and puts it on again.

"Wait? He? Where are you going and why didn't you let me know so I could have a heads up?" Pepper frowns a touch and pulls out her phone, no doubt to adjust his schedule accordingly. "I can reschedule the R&D meeting for tomorrow."

"Okay, great." Tony gives an exaggerated sigh. "There for a second you had me worried I'd have to give Banner the runaround again. I'm meeting him for a lunch interview. I'll be answering questions about Ross' comments," he tells her in a casual tone.

"What?" He can practically hear her eyes widen. "You're doing an interview on _that_? You need to warn me about these things so I can let PR know," she sighs, more than says, in defeat. For a moment the only sound is her manicured nails clacking lightly against her phone screen. "And couldn't he have gotten what he needed last night?" Her tone is conversational again, almost teasing. "Just how many spreads on you is he planning?"

"No, see, he—" Tony blinks, stops the motions of his hands, looks at her and sees the impish smirk in her eyes that confirms her meaning. He snorts at her and shakes his head. "You know, sometimes I think you're really not a very nice person."

"Has anyone ever thought I was?"

He snorts again. "Still," he finishes up with his tie at last, "I don't think I appreciate the defamatory statement." In fact, he feels a small prickle of annoyance on Bruce's behalf. "He didn't seem like the type."

"I didn't know any other type was attracted to you," she teases him further.

"Me neither," he admits. "And it was a nice change of pace." Too nice, apparently. "Wait," he looks at her suddenly, "how did you know?" He sees her small tell, even if she doesn't realize it, and so fixes her with an expectant look. "How many pieces?"

"Perhaps Miss Potts has already seen the morning headlines?" Jarvis suggests. He sets down a pair of freshly polished shoes, because the man can't help himself no matter how often Tony tells him it's not that important. "Mister Parker certainly has. He was quite vocal at breakfast about you, and I quote: taking your blue balls out on him."

Pepper breaks out into a fit of laughter and Tony groans as he sits down to put on his shoes. He's not looking forward to the confrontation that's sure to come at the dinner table later. He wishes now that he hadn't put off his usual perusal of the newest headlines in favor of preparing for the interview.

"It would seem," Jarvis continues, "that your little moment with the Bugle reporter has graced every rag and society page across the country." Jarvis gives a small, refined chuckle. "With the exception of the Bugle itself, ironically."

"Huh." Tony ponders that for a short minute, but ultimately returns to his previous suspicion. "And I see what you're doing," he accuses the butler. "Don't shield her. That reasoning might work if it wasn't an _art_ gala. So how many pieces, Pep?"

She sighs as she answers, "Just two."

"Jesus, Pepper," he grits out. "One of these days you're going to get caught." He shakes a finger at her as he stands. "And it's going to ruin everything. I'll be implicated and they'll find the Iron Man workshop and there goes my anonymity."

"Glad to know my wellbeing in that scenario ranks so high," Pepper says flatly.

Tony doesn't justify it with a response.


	11. Chapter 11

> My former employee _has_ been illegally experimenting with gamma. I'm willing to share what I know under the condition of anonymity.

Bruce lets out a small breath. He's been waiting eagerly for a response from this potential source. He desperately needs an inside scoop for the investigative piece he's been working on under the radar.

Bruce continues reading through the email. The source gives a few more caveats before offering a preferred time and place to meet. Without hesitating, Bruce hits reply.

His fingers are hovering above his keyboard when the bullpen goes silent. He furrows his brow and looks up from his laptop. Everyone seems to be staring at the elevator so Bruce turns his head.

Standing just inside the room, and smiling in his direction, is Tony Stark.

Bruce jumps to his feet and the billionaire takes it as an invitation to stride over to his desk. His colleagues begin to murmur. 

Tony places a palm against the surface of his desk and leans forward, oozing sex appeal and maybe a tad too much smarm. "I'm ready for my close-up," he says, and smiles wider.

Bruce swallows. He hadn't expected his concern and curiosity about potential projects being used against Hulk to lead to this.

He opens his mouth to say something useless, like _hi_ , when Nat snorts and whispers loudly to Betty, "I'm sure he is."

Bruce's eyes widen and Tony shoots a narrowed glance the other reporter's way. Bruce suddenly wants to be anywhere else.

"Right, our lunch. Interview. Our lunch interview. I didn't forget. I just… Um… Let me," he fumbles around his desk as much as he does with his words, "let me just get my stuff and we can go."

Bruce mentally kicks himself because he's making an even bigger scene in front of his colleagues. At this rate he's likely to trip over the corner of his desk and into the billionaire's arms for full effect.

He doesn't, but the walk to the elevator feels like the longest he's ever taken and with the rumors about their relationship swirling in the air, it almost feels like a walk of shame. Not that he's ashamed. At least, he doesn't think he is.

The elevator doors take an eternity to close and when they do he wonders if the entire office has broken into an immediate ruckus.

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," Bruce thinks aloud. Then he realizes what he's done. He looks at Tony. "Uh, I mean… That is…"

"Sorry about that," Tony interjects. "I tend to create a scene wherever I go. I'm so used to it, I forget about the people that aren't. I could have just texted you to come down," he says, hitching a shoulder.

"I would have liked that better," Bruce admits. "But that's not exactly what I meant," he explains. Tony raises an eyebrow. "Just, you know, the interview is compromised now. People will assume anything I write about you is biased after…" He clears his throat. "Um, after last night."

Tony studies him until the elevator doors open again, and they move out of the small box into the lobby. "That's solved easily enough," Tony says as they walked towards the doors. He holds one open and lets Bruce go first.

When they're outside, it's easy to see which car is Tony's. Bruce stops beside it and turns to look at the billionaire.

"Is it?"

"Sure. Tony Stark is a notorious lush who has a problem with being a little too handsy when he sees something he likes. If you want me to, I can have my press team make a statement that you asked me for an interview and, drunkenly, I kissed you. Then had a moment of sobriety and put distance between us for your sake. This is my way of saying I'm sorry. A sober redo essentially." Bruce chews his bottom lip, considering it. "That way you can still keep your integrity and—"

"And you can retreat to your closet?" Bruce quizzes.

"Uh, not what I was going to say," Tony hedges, "but sure. That's a perk too."

Bruce doesn't know what to say to that. If there's anything he _can_ say to that. So he just nods as he slides into the passenger seat of a sports car that costs more than his annual salary.

As soon as Tony is in the driver's seat, he continues, "But the point is, you don’t have to worry. Then, anything that happens later can be explained by me persisting in my pursuit after the interview and you giving me a chance."

Bruce blinks and turns his head to the billionaire.

Tony backtracks quickly, "If you want. Anything to happen later, I mean. No pressure. This is a no strings interview. I mean, sure, I'm definitely being opportunistic here, but you know."

Bruce snorts, unable to prevent himself and Tony stops rambling to dart his eyes his direction. "Yeah, I sort of got that impression last night too," he tells him before averting his own gaze to his right. "Honestly," he sighs, "I'd just like to get through this interview before considering how to handle…" He waves a hand, not sure how to finish.

"Understood," Tony regards him in a surprisingly gentle tone.


	12. Chapter 12

Bruce clicks and unclicks his pen a few times as he takes a bite of his food. He glances down at the notepad where he's been taking down highlights of Tony's answers in shorthand, along with a few anecdotal notes.

Tony doubts the reporter is aware he can read shorthand because his description of him is needlessly thorough. He's also jotted down in a margin that he feels inadequately dressed in comparison.

Bruce swallows his mouthful, takes a drink, wipes his mouth and then fixes Tony with a calculating, albeit tentative, gaze.

"Are we finally at the million dollar question?" Tony guesses. Thus far questions have been mostly about general business between Stark Industries and the military.

"Why did Stark Industries accept a military contract to begin Hulk-related projects in the first place? Your official statement is that it's in good conscience. Can you elaborate on what your conscience is telling you, Mr. Stark?"

There's something almost sharp in Bruce's eyes and for a brief moment all of Tony's reasons escape him. He wipes the grease off of his fingers, then crumples the napkin up and discards it onto the table. He glances outside through the busy restaurant's window.

"My conscience is telling me…" _Protect. Avenge. Protect_. "Sometimes the world needs a shield." He looks at Bruce, watching the movement of his hand as he takes down the answer. "Stark Industries is doing everything it can to provide that shield. But sometimes there needs to be a sword if the shield breaks. I… I don't particularly enjoy that. I shut down my company's weapons production for a reason."

Well, several reasons, but none that need to be elaborated on.

"But as a futurist, I believe we have to be prepared for the worst even while we work toward the best."

Bruce's hand stills in its notetaking and he studies Tony. "So, it's contingency? You're just looking for ways to neutralize the Hulk if the need ever arises?"

"More or less," Tony answers with a hitch of a shoulder. "I won't say I wouldn't like to know more about the Hulk. Another thing I don't enjoy is not having all of the variables. A creature that could be summed up as a giant, green rage monster, whatever his intent, is a potential threat. I know you must have some kind of understanding of the thing, whatever he is, but can you sit there and honestly tell me there isn't anything threatening about him whatsoever?"

"I—" Bruce's eyes widen. For a short moment the man seems frozen. When he finds his voice again, he says, "I can't… tell you that, no. He… He's an unknown variable. You're right about that." Bruce's voice sounds almost strangled and he seems unable to make eye contact.

"So you understand where I'm coming from. I can't tell you what General Ross' agenda is, but as long as he has the commission from the government to handle the Hulk should he ever present a problem, then I have to work with him directly."

Bruce's eyes turn sharp again. "He's actively hunted the Hulk. That's not contingency."

The part of Tony's conscience that's torn on the issue screams to life. He closes his eyes and sighs. "I'm aware of that. He even used my weapons to try and subdue the Hulk before I shut down production. But current projects do not include weapons. I can't stop him from hunting the Hulk, but I'm not part of that. I still stand by the statement that the projects we're working on are in good conscience. I'm not saying Stark Industries needs to help shield the world from the Hulk, but it will be ready to."

Bruce blinks a few times before scrawling down some more notes. After a moment he says, "I guess that's all the questions I have for the moment."

Their eyes meet across the table for a brief second before Bruce darts his away and an awkward silence descends over their lunch.

"That went easier than I thought it would," Tony says, trying to break it. "After dealing with Ms. Ross that is. She's more formidable than she looks."

Bruce cracks a small smile at that and meets his eyes again. "She is. She'd probably stand in front of her father's tanks if she decided there was no other way."

"You care a lot about her," Tony deduces. He wonders if there's something there he should ask about. Bruce might have denied it the night before out of professional consideration only.

"I do," Bruce confirms with a nod. It's followed by another short moment of silence until Bruce breaks it with, "Oh, I do have one more question actually. Strictly off the record of course. How's Peter?"

"He hates me," Tony says on autopilot, shaking his head.

He then realizes what he's done. Bruce is looking at him with wide-eyed amusement and Tony racks his brain for what specific excuse he'd given the night before.

"I'm sure whatever you forgot wasn't world-ending," Bruce says, reminding him and Tony nearly sighs in relief. "Not…" Bruce's smile falters then returns, a little more rueful. "Not that I'm the best example, but I'm sure every teenager hates his dad in theory at some point."

Tony ignores the way he can relate a little too much to that statement and says instead, "I don't know." He leans back in the booth with a shrug. "He seems to think I've ruined his life or something."

"You probably did," Bruce teases dryly, a glint of humor sparkling behind his glasses. "After all, teenagers are delicate creatures. The littlest things are genuinely life-threatening."

Tony snorts. "Spoken like a man with kids." He then furrows his brow and inclines his head, wondering.

"No," Bruce understands the unspoken question and shakes his head. "No, I—" He pauses, a small shadow passing across his face that Tony wonders about. "I don't have that pleasure," he finishes. "But I do have a young colleague who was, not too very long ago, a teenager himself."

Tony can't help but smile at the easy turn the conversation has taken. He's never had a date, or even a potential one, mention his adopted charge, not even to butter him up which Bruce isn't even doing. It's genuine interest in a side of Tony Stark that most of the world would rather forget or else pervert.

Of course, there's also a warning in Tony's head that this change of pace, however nice, might be a dangerous one.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony pulls his car into the valet space in front of the Daily Bugle and puts it into park. 

"Thanks again for the interview," Bruce says, offering the man a small smile along with his appreciation. 

"It was my pleasure," Tony replies. He then purses his lips and narrows his eyes as if scrutinizing something. "Well, maybe not as pleasurable as it might have been last night," he adds.

Bruce chokes on air and Tony chuckles, amused with himself no doubt. 

"You," he fumbles slightly, "you never know. The sex might have been terrible." Tony lifts an eyebrow and Bruce realizes what he said. "And that came out wrong."

"The sex would have been mind-blowing," Tony replies. "But, no, I mean it. Today was great too. You'd be surprised how many reporters don't actually seem to care what I say even though it's their job. They've already got their assumptions about me and I learned a long time ago I'm never going to be able to change that. In my experience a few soundbites here and there for them to interpret however they want makes my life easier."

"So playing dumb?" Bruce guesses. He'd had his theory that it was the case, but spending a little more time with the man has solidified his conclusion that Tony is putting on some kind of act.

Tony looks like his brain has just stuttered, but it passes quickly. He hitches a shoulder, but turns his head to look straight ahead. 

"When you've lived the kind of life I have," he says slowly, "you learn it's… beneficial to wear a few different masks." Bruce studies his profile while Tony clearly picks over words carefully before continuing. "Common people are afraid of genius." 

Bruce swallows hard and looks out the passenger window. He mutters a, "Some are, yeah." He doesn't know if Tony hears. 

"Other intelligent people are more often than not threatened by it," Tony continues. He then pauses for a long moment and Bruce wonders if there's anything more he's going to say on the subject. When he does, it takes Bruce a little by surprise. "Add to it a ridiculous amount of good fortune: money, success, charisma, devastating good looks…"

Bruce snorts and looks back at him to see him looking at him. Their eyes lock and nothing is said for a moment. 

Bruce finally hazards, "I can see how you'd have to find a way to strike a balance just…" He tries to cover the thread of conviction in his voice with neutrality, but decidedly fails. "Just to keep your sanity."

Tony gives a considering-sounding, "hmm." Then he ducks his head and says, "As for the closet, it's been an extra buffer. I've found it particularly beneficial since the press would have a field day over a gay playboy being given legal guardianship of—" 

"Oh," Bruce says before Tony can finish. "That makes sense. Unfortunately," he adds.

Tony nods. "And I never had a steady partner to make it look more on the up and up. I don't exactly do much dating after all."

"I…" He clears his throat. "I'm aware of that too."

Tony looks up at him, squinting as if confused. Whatever it is, he shakes it off and says, "But maybe that's one mask that I can let go of. Trade it in for something else."

Bruce swallows, sucks in a shaky breath and then lets it back out again with a small shake of his head. "Hmm-mm. Don't take this the wrong way," he hedges, "but that would probably be a bad idea. I'm not saying you shouldn't come out if you want to, not that I'm one to judge anyone on their authenticity," he muses before he can think better of it. He hastily continues, "But I'm… I'm not the right candidate for that." 

He firmly reminds himself of all the reasons why, of all the reasons last night would have been a mistake had fate not intervened.

"Not even something private? A quiet dinner or two?" Tony is probably used to bargaining and getting what he wants. He'd done so the night before with relative ease. "Lunch was nice."

Bruce sighs. "Yes, it was, but the answer is still no. I'm sorry. It’s not you."

Tony gives a self-derisive snort. "Isn't it?" 

Bruce furrows his brow and starts to assure him it isn't when Tony's eyes widen. Bruce's confused scowl deepens as Tony exits the car quickly. His eyes track him as he passes around the front of the car and over to the sidewalk where… 

Bruce's eyes widen when he recognizes the teenager occasionally pictured in press photos with Tony Stark. He follows Tony's lead by getting out of the car. 

"You told me to start acting like a normal teenager," Peter is protesting when he nears the two. "Normal teenagers have jobs."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. And why aren't you in school?"

"Half day," he answers. "But come on. It's not even a full time job. It's not even a _part-time_ job. It's literally only as needed and on a trial basis." Peter holds up a camera and snaps a photo of Tony. "You can be my first submission."

"That was fast," Bruce mumbles when he realizes Jameson must have put some job listing up for more photographers. 

"A candid look at the man behind the—" Peter stops suddenly and looks over at Bruce as if just noticing him. He then looks back at Tony, who had flinched for some reason. "I just remembered I'm still mad at you." 

Tony sighs heavily. He glances at Bruce. "Bruce, meet my well-mannered charge, Peter. Peter, this is Do, uh, Mr. Banner of the Daily Bugle."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that," Peter says. "Just like I'm aware you say charge instead of son when you're frustrated with me." Peter holds out a hand. "But since we'll probably be working together, I guess I should be professional." 

Bruce holds in a snort and shakes the boy's hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Peter."

"Wait," Tony narrows his eyes, "don't tell me you got this job because you're scheming something against Bruce here." 

Bruce's own eyes widen as he lets go of Peter's hand. 

"What?" Peter is the picture of innocence, so much so that it doesn't give Bruce much assurance. "Why would I do that? You can kiss whoever you want. I'm just here to take pictures. Honest."

"The last time you said _honest_ —" Tony cuts himself off with a shake of his head and spares Bruce a glance. He sighs. "Alright, we can discuss this at home. I look forward to reading what you write about me, Mr. Banner," Tony says as he shoos Peter towards his car. "And lunch was nice," he adds across the hood, giving him a deliberate look before sliding into the vehicle.

Bruce watches, stunned, as the billionaire and teen drive off. It's only after a few minutes of standing there that he sighs to himself, his lips turning down.

"It was," he agrees.

And he wishes the answer could have been yes.


	14. Chapter 14

Bruce knows that there are smarter ways to take his mind off how much he hates his life for making it impossible to go after the things he wants.

He knows he could be at home working on his Stark piece. He knows he could have agreed to meet this source at a reasonable hour in a more reputable neighborhood. He knows he could have at least let somebody know his plans should it all go south and they wonder where he's gone.

Then again if it all goes south it will also all go green. As long as he has to deal with the Jolly Green Giant (and it takes him a second to realize where that nickname even came from in the first place) he figures he might as well take comfort in knowing he can wander around the darkest, grittiest, most dangerous parts of the city after midnight without any real concern for his health.

It doesn't make up for not being able to entertain having a genuine, _normal_ social life ever again, one where he doesn't have to lie constantly or worry that one day his alter ego will smash the wrong person, but it's something.

So Bruce agrees to wait near the docks for his source no matter how precarious. It's not like he wouldn't prefer meeting this guy at a reasonable hour in a more reputable neighborhood, but he is determined to get any new information he can in his attempt to uncover—

He hears something out of place. Not a footfall. Something less human. His heartrate spikes accordingly, a warning from the Other Guy that he's awake enough now to act if they're in danger. Bruce isn't ready for it to all go south just yet, or ever, so he slowly raises his hands and turns toward the sound.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm not—"

His eyes go wide as he looks up and sees none other than the vigilante known as Iron Man hovering above him just a few feet away. His breath hitches. He's never seen the infamous avenger in person. Betty has once. Nat claims to have seen him a couple of times. But none of the stories do the experience justice.

"You're not where you should be," a deep, tinny voice finishes his abandoned statement and the Iron Man lands with an intimidating clank against the ground. He stalks forward. "This is no place for a reporter in the day. It sure as hell isn't at night."

"I, well… Wait." Bruce pauses and furrows his brow. "How do you know I'm a reporter?"

The Iron Man closes the small gap between them and Bruce's breath hitches again as he's essentially towered over by a massive armored knight, two glowing eyes with no emotion staring back at him. A gauntleted hand moves between them and Bruce flinches before he realizes the vigilante is pulling out his press pass, which must have been sticking out of his jacket without his knowing.

"What are you doing here, Bugler?" Iron Man asks him, tucking the pass back in but not letting go of his jacket.

Bruce swallows hard and takes a shaky breath. He really hopes he can keep Hulk from getting involved. He doesn't think it's a great idea to let Iron Man of all people, if he's a person and not some advanced robot he briefly muses, be the one to figure out his secret.

"I'm working on a piece. Um, about the mogul Loki Laufeyson and his corporation," he tries to explain himself. "I was meeting a source here. It's critical I get whatever information—"

"Critical?" Iron Man cuts him off and even with the tinny modulation of his voice, Bruce hears sharp incredulity. He pulls him in even closer and Bruce has no choice but to brace a hand against the broad, artificial chest with the brightly lit triangle. "Critical enough to risk your life coming here alone at this hour? Are you perhaps _insane_? Isn't there _anybody_ who would miss you?"

Bruce knows it's not the proper response, but he feels a trickle of amused exasperation overtake his initial awe. "A man in a," he scrutinizes the material under his hand, "what seems to be titanium alloy suit is asking me if I'm insane? Does Iron Man fail to see the irony in that?"

"Okay, yeah, the jury's out on that point," Iron Man offers, "but insane or not I'm trying to keep people like you safe. Ordinary people way out of their league. I'm fully capable of protecting myself and—"

"So there _is_ a real life man in there after all. You're not just a highly sentient artificial intelligence," Bruce deduces looking up at the face plate with searching eyes. The helmet tilts back just a touch, an indication of surprise if Bruce had to guess.

"Iron Man isn't going to be your next headline, Bugle Boy."

"No," Bruce agrees with a shake of his head, "that honor belongs to a certain billionaire."

The metal fingers clench and unclench his jacket before letting go. "Loki Laufeyson?"

"Well, you've likely scared off my source so—"

He suddenly detects something is off and turns his head just before Iron Man does the same. Before Bruce can even blink Iron Man shields him from a bullet no doubt intended for him.

_Stay calm_ , Bruce thinks. _No need for Hulk right now. Iron Man can handle this_.

Iron Man fires several repulsor shots from his outstretched palm before flying after the fleeing assassin. Bruce chases after him just in case Iron Man can't handle it and Hulk ends up being needed after all. Also, if he's trying to avoid an incident, it's probably for the best he not remain a sitting duck for any other unexpected attack. When Bruce catches up to the vigilante, he has the assassin in, well, no way around the pun, an iron grip.

"Shooting at people is a crime," Iron Man says, tinny voice even harsher than before.

"Pays good though," the man chokes out with an unimpressed snort.

Iron Man lifts the man higher. "Ah, ah, ah," he says, "haven't you ever heard? Crime doesn't pay."

"That was pretty bad," Bruce critiques before he can stop himself.

The glowing eyes of Iron Man's mask look down at him and he wonders what expression resides on the other side of the mask.

Bruce clears his throat and looks at the man still held by the vigilante. "So somebody paid you good money to shoot at me?" Iron Man looks back as well. "Didn't know I was that important."

"You probably aren't," the man says, "but even kitty cats get a little too curious from time to time."

Bruce blinks, makes a mental note of his answer for later, and then says, "Then you'd better give me the satisfaction of telling me who paid you."

"And be struck down? Don't think so."

Police sirens howl in the distance.

"Then I guess we'll just have to do this the old fashioned way."

Iron Man shoots up into the air with the man still in his grip, a cry of shock echoing through the air. Bruce's head jerks upward and he watches as they fly off.

The hired gun wasn't wrong about his curiosity because after a few moments Bruce decides to continue down the alley, heading in the general direction Iron Man had gone. He makes it about half a block when he stops at the sound of metal against the ground. He spins around quickly, eyes wide.

"How did you—"

"Do you have anything against staying in one spot?" Iron Man interrupts. "You know, where you're less likely to run into any more trouble?" He folds his armored arms and it's a little amusing to look at.

Bruce huffs and shakes his head. "Logically there's no way of determining with certainty my likelihood of running into more trouble one way or the other. The hired gun could have just as easily had a friend waiting for another opportunity."

"I—" The arms fall. "I didn't… Damn it." Bruce furrows his brow at the reaction. There's a modulated sigh followed by, "The police will want to question you."

Bruce sighs too. "So much for my story."

"I'm sure you'll find something else. Laufeyson can't be the only interesting billionaire out there worth writing about. You seem to have a penchant for them if the tabloids are to be believed."

Bruce isn't sure what comes over him. Maybe it's the adrenaline needing an outlet. Or maybe it's more of the same frustration that he's not somewhere else right now having mind-blowing sex with Tony Stark – or, hell, even in his own bed with a goofy smile thinking about a simple dinner or coffee or anything else they'd managed to share _had he simply been able to say yes_.

Whatever it is that comes over him, Bruce steps close to Iron Man's armored body and challenges, "Or maybe Iron Man will be my next headline after all. Bugle boy is a pretty damn good writer when he wants to be. I can make it the best headline you've ever had."

He takes a deep breath in, regains his senses, and turns. He's nearly made it to the end of the block when Iron Man finally responds. Bruce had wondered if the vigilante had simply taken off again.

"Fuck, that was— Wait, where are you going?"

"To the nearest precinct."

"I can give you a lift. Faster and safer."

Bruce stops. He considers it for a long moment before deciding he's had enough for one night. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll manage." He looks over his shoulder and gives him a small smile. "But thanks for the rescue."

Bruce starts on his way again and tries not to make it too obvious he's aware of Iron Man following him at a distance until he's arrived safely at the police station.


	15. Chapter 15

"You will be glad to know Mister Parker went to bed at a decent hour and has remained there the entire time," Jarvis says when Tony is fully freed from his armor.

"Hmm?" Tony blinks and then processes his words. "Oh. Oh right. Good."

He walks over to his workshop's minibar. He needs it after the night he's had. After the last couple of nights he's had, honestly.

"This Bruce Banner is beginning to become a bit of a habit of yours it seems," Jarvis says, a touch of humor in his voice. "I trust you weren't actively looking for him after he declined your invitation to further your acquaintance?"

Tony shakes his head, knocks back a finger and pours another. Holding the drink, he turns to look at his butler. The older man is studying him casually as he needlessly tidies up the workshop. Tony knows he's only there out of genuine curiosity and concern for him. A small smile touches his lips before it fades again as he sighs.

"I can't seem to figure him out," Tony admits. "One minute he's shy and self-deprecating. The next he's sharp as a tack. Which is real? The quiet reporter or the feisty one? And he can barely handle a room full of socialites so why the hell did he think he should show up alone in that neighborhood at night?"

Tony squeezes his glass, recalling his absolute dread on seeing him in such a dangerous place… and relief that he was safe and Iron Man had happened upon him so to keep it that way. He takes a drink, letting it burn away his renewed frustration.

"Ah, so another puzzle for you to solve," Jarvis replies.

"This is nothing like the Hulk," Tony counters.

"Perhaps not the best analogy," Jarvis agrees. "Maybe likening him to Iron Man would be better. How many masks do you wear, Mister Stark?"

Tony's eyes widen. "You think he's hiding something?"

Jarvis laughs and replies, "No, but I'm not surprised that's your first assumption. Let me see if I can explain this," the butler says with a sass that hasn't wilted over the years. "Here in the real world, the one that typically doesn't involve secret identities and caped crusaders—"

Tony glowers. "I am _not_ a caped crusader." He finishes his drink and turns back to the bar, considering another.

Jarvis huffs. "The point is, sir, normal people typically have many facets to their personality. _Your_ Bruce Banner is quite capable of being mild-mannered _and_ aggressive. He can be shy _and_ outgoing. He can even struggle between running away from and flirting back with a man who keeps accosting him," Jarvis adds with a chuckle. He's suddenly beside Tony and taking the canter, capping it and putting it away. "Do you see the pattern here?" he asks casually.

"I sort of zoned out after you called him _my_ Bruce Banner," Tony deflects.

"Honestly, sir," Jarvis says, "I don't know why I bother sometimes."

Tony laughs, knowing that Jarvis is joking. The humor is short lived.

"So what you're saying is Bruce is breathtakingly complex." Tony sighs. "That doesn't help me, you know."

Jarvis gives him a patient smile. "If he is as I guess, he's in good company." Tony understands the compliment. "Which is, perhaps, why I must say I'm starting to root for this one." Tony furrows his brow and watches as Jarvis crosses the room toward the elevator. "He'd be just the kind of guy you need to keep you on your toes without overdoing it."

"Jarvis, you know it's a good thing he said no. Him being in danger, I…" The sentence trails as he remembers it.

When he'd circled back for Bruce and hadn't found him in the alley where he'd left him, he'd been legitimately terrified in a way he rarely is.

"I believe I understand," Jarvis offers gently.

"It can't work," Tony says.

To that Jarvis raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

Tony sighs with more frustration this time. " _I'm_ not the kind of guy _he_ needs."

Jarvis studies him for a long moment. "Hm," he finally replies, "yes, well, with all due respect, I'd say the way you seem to get to him too says otherwise, Mister Stark. Please do try to get some sleep," he finishes before leaving Tony alone.

Tony scrubs a hand down his face and holds his chin for a few seconds before dropping it back down to his side. Maybe Tony Stark gets to Bruce Banner and maybe Iron Man does too, but that doesn't mean either one of them is what the other man needs.

He groans, head falling back on his shoulders. He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

So what does he have to do to stop thinking about the impossible?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Kill My Mind by Louis Tomlinson.
> 
> Characters/Counterparts (thus far)  
> Tony/Iron Man - Bruce Wayne/Batman  
> Bruce/Hulk - Clark Kent/Superman  
> Peter/Spider-man - Dick Grayson/Robin  
> Edwin Jarvis - Alfred Pennyworth  
> Betty Ross - Lois Lane  
> General Ross - General Lane  
> Natasha Romanov alias Natalie Rushman - Cat Grant  
> Loki Laufeyson - Lex Luthor  
> Pepper Potts - Selina Kyle


End file.
